


Remembrance

by LittleKittenGirl



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Broken Spark Bonds, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Rebirth, Transformers Spark Bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleKittenGirl/pseuds/LittleKittenGirl
Summary: As Orion Pax and Megatronus are declared Prime and High Lord Protector of Cybertron by Primus himself, an assassin from the Council murders both right as the Matrix changes Orion to Optimus Prime. Orion awakens in a new frame on a Cybertron where the Decepticons he had once helped lead, along with his bondmate, are exiled from Cybertron and Autobots rule a Functionalist society. A new universe, with a new Cybertron and a new Megatron… but the same sparks. With only the Matrix in his chest and the allies he gathers on his journey, shall he-and Cybertron itself-ever get their happily ever after?Short version: Prime Orion Pax, after a disastrous coronation, is reborn as TFA Optimus Prime. All the sparks from his old life are there, but he is the only one to remember it. And he’s still dealing with spark damage on his own…





	1. Reawakening

Orion looked in the mirror uncertainly, tugging at the long deep blue cloak draped over his shoulders. Whoever had made the ceremonial garb had done an incredible job at it. Delicate white crystal beads hummed in the soft mesh tastefully. It reminded the data clerk of the starlit sky above Cybertron where it wasn’t too polluted to see. Golden detailing painted on his cheeks and the white of his armour, combined with the white glyphs trailing up his sides and servos, made him look like an upper-class noblemech. The sword at his side would make even the Council believe him worthy of Primehood. 

 

He certainly didn’t feel like a Prime.

 

“Hey, Orion!” The nervous mech turned to the door. Jazz smirked, leaning casually against the door frame. He looked him up and down approvingly and let out a whistle. “Damn, mech. Yah look good all cleaned up. If yar gladiator Megatron hadn’t scooped yeh up first, yah’d likely have a whole line-up ah mecha at yer door. ” Pax felt his cheeks heat up blue with Energon and looked down at his pedes. His arms pulled the fabric close to shield his frame.

 

“Hello, old friend. How has the search for the Council loyalists gone so far?” Business was needed, no matter how much he would like to just sit back and relax. 

 

Jazz noticed the obvious conversation deflection, but let it go. “Ah’m afraid that it ain’t good. None o’the Senators have been found. Ah’m worried they might try somethin’,” the former cultural investigator sighed. When they had overthrown the Council, he had finally been able to pursue his passion for music. Already he had become known as a genius musician and composer. Then his smile came back. “Still, yah shouldn’t worry about that slag. Aren’t yah excited? Today’s yar and Megs’ coronation!”

 

Orion looked back towards the mirror. The same imposing figure stared right back. His reflection still had the same winged audials, red, blue and silver paint job, and black servos. But with the expensive polish and details that he would have never been able to afford before now, along with the sword and cloak which demonstrated the position of Primes made him near unrecognisable to himself.

 

He let out his own sigh. A servo hesitated over the glass’ surface, before leaning on it tiredly. All the weight of Cybertron’s peoples and their hopes finally were laid bare to see on the young mech. “Are you sure that I deserve such a position?”

 

The grin on the musician’s dermas disappeared and he rested a servo on his shoulder in comfort. “Hey, Orion. C’mon. Yah have earned this. Ah can’t think of anybot who deserves this more. Yah and Megs shall lead us back to a glorious future. Sounds tacky, Ah know. But Ah think that this time, it’s true.”

 

Pax smiled, squeezing his Amica’s servo. They had only just been free to create the bond a little while ago, but that soothing pulse was worth more than words could describe to him. It was different than his bond with his fellow revolutionary Conjunx Endura, but still just as prized.

 

A throaty chuckle drifted across the room, and both mechs looked back at the large gladiator in question. Orion felt his spark swell with the same light loving tenderness that he had felt when their relationship had just begun. Megatron must have felt it as well because he crossed the chamber with an openness that only he and Soundwave saw on a regular basis. 

 

Soundwave because the two had been close friends for vorns and had also recently become Amica Endura. Orion himself had taken another Amica, the brilliant medic Ratchet. He couldn’t begrudge his lover his own bonds. Anyways, he and the loyal spymaster got along very well. Maybe one day they would form an Amica bond between themselves. Just in case anything happened, the three Amicas would become the next rulers until a new Prime could be found. Time had shown them to be near incorruptible.

 

Megatron leaned down slightly to kiss a winged audial fin. Orion’s blush, which had nearly faded, came back in full force. Jazz laughed brightly. “Well hello, my beloved Conjunx,” the former gladiator whispered smugly to his data clerk. Orion would have pouted if he weren’t so exalted by his lover’s presence. Ever since the two had completely merged sparks, the larger mech had been so pleased with himself that he had begun to shower the smaller one with kisses and romantic gestures. Not that Orion was complaining. It was an overflow of love to make up for the time they had been forbidden to one another.

 

Orion looked up, antenna twitching back. He allowed himself a wider smile. “Hello, sweetspark.” Just seeing his sparkmate made hope reignite. He let his optics take in his lover.

  
  


Megatron was cleaned up as well, ready for their upcoming coronation in front of Primus himself. His silvery outer armour almost glittered with a healthy sheen that Orion hadn’t seen in far too long. Freedom from the oppressive caste system suited him well. His warm blue optics glowed with a hope that had nearly died before the two had grown so close, and a scarlet cloak that matched his under-armour lay draped over his broad shoulders. Tiny black detailing was inscribed only on the red under-armour. A golden hilt peeked out from the garp. All in all, he looked just as gorgeous as the day they had bonded.

 

Soundwave, who was waiting just outside the room, coughed into his servo. He didn’t want to interrupt the two lovers, but he knew that the ravishing could wait until after meeting with their god. Ravage slunk around his pedes. “Excuse me, but I’m afraid that I must intrude.” His full-face visor snapped back down to hide his delicate facial features and exotic purple optics. He exchanged a meaningful look with the couple. “It is time.”

 

Megatron groaned immaturely but gave in. He straightened to his full height before offering his servo to his precious lover and soon-to-be Prime. “Shall we?” His roguish smile caused the former data clerk’s blush to deepen. Primus below, was he always going to react this way?

 

“Yes,” he answered, slipping his slimmer servo into the other’s clawed hold.

 

Together, the two future rulers of Cybertron strode out the door to meet their fate.

 

/-/-/

 

Meeting Primus was one of those moments where you feel both so small yet that everything you do, everything you  _ are _ , mattered  _ so much _ . It was no wonder that such an encounter was seen as so sacred.

 

The god in question smiled down at the two lovers, both kneeling on one knee joint with servos still clasped together in a show of unity. Pride was emanating from his near-overpowering EM field. “My sons. Worthy are you of the positions of Prime and High Lord Protector.” His echoing voice boomed out with love and belief. 

 

He turned his attention first on Megatron, as was traditional for a Prime-Protector bond. “Megatron, borne of Tarn, first miner, then a gladiator, you forged your path with fire in your optics and determination in your spark. You vowed once to grant all living Cybertronians the right to free will. Will you continue on this noble mission and protect my sparks, the peoples of Cybertron?”

 

Megatron kept his helm lowered in an unusual display of submission and respect. “Until my spark burns out,” he swore with ever-burning conviction characteristic to the mech. The white-clad god nodded approvingly and turned to his new Prime. 

 

“And you, Orion Pax of Iacon? You who once worked to preserve the knowledge and history of your people, and then rose to serve and protect those unable to protect themselves due to the restrictive caste system holding them down? I have watched as you and your Protector have sacrificed so much for the sake of freedom. Shall you continue to guide my sparks with your High Lord Protector, and lead them to a future of freedom and individuality?”

 

Orion looked up so that his god could see the determination bright in his optics. “With all my spark, until my spark extinguishes.”

 

Primus nodded, light brightening even more. “Then I grant you the Matrix of Leadership, and the cementing of your Prime-Protector bond.” He smiled one last time as Orion and Megatron lit up Allspark blue and fire-crimson respectively. “Congratulations. I have faith that you shall make me proud.”

 

The Matrix descended into the new Prime’s spark chamber, and light bound from their sparks to bind the bond they already had together even closer. The god’s figure collapsed on itself so that he was only slightly taller than the pair. His blindingly white servos clapped onto their outer shoulders. The servos between them stayed together. The two looked up, the new glyphs etched into their frames glowing with spark. 

 

“Arise,  _ (one-who-is-to-rise-above-overwhelming-odds) _ High Lord Protector Megatron and  _ (one-who-is-to-lead-towards-favorable-outcomes) _ Optimus Prime. May your rule be just and merciful.”

 

The newly declared High Lord Protector and Prime looked up and met each other’s gaze, love and resolve filling their besotted optics. This was it. At that moment, everything seemed possible. The future was bright. Their Amicas, feeling their sense of accomplishment and hope, sent back their own happiness and confidence for the duo. 

 

Up above, the people of Cybertron cheered for the bright future now secured for them. It was final, in a good way. Cheers of ‘Optimus Prime’, ‘High Lord Megatron’, and ‘Long May They Live’ rang in the air. All of Cybertron was now ready for the new true Golden Age.

 

And then the shot broke through Orion’s spark chamber.

 

/-/-/

 

Orion gasped as he resurfaced. He bolted upright, servos pressed flat against the solid metal slab. His spark pulse raced at alarmingly high rates and pounded against the wall of its chamber painfully. Megatron-Jazz-Soundwave-Ratchet- _ Megatron! _ Hot coolant poured from his optics as his spark seized at the reminder of the bonds that  _ should be there _ but  _ weren’t _ .

 

He swung his helm around wildly, only to be met by strange grey bodies _ (factory-made protoforms, something in his processor whispered _ ) and disoriented mecha waking from recharge on the same kind of berths as he had. No-no-no _ -no he said he would never leave him- _ He only realised he had raised up his servos when he caught sight of them on his knees in an effort to steady himself.

 

Blue servos, not black. The Prime reached them up despite their trembling to feel his familiar winged audial fins. Flat triangles, one on each side of his helm, greeted them instead of the two-winged antenna that he recognised. His paint job was red and blue, but this body w _ asn’t his oh Primus it wasn’t HIS! _

 

The glyphs that had etched their way onto his new protoflesh pulsed blue to white in his severe distress, servos moving to cradle his new helm against his shaky knees as he sobbed out his confusion and fear and the agony of not one, but  _ four _ broken spark bonds.

 

And for the first time, the sparking chamber’s quiet was shattered by the spark-throbbing keens of one of the new lives for the life it had lost and the family it might never recover.


	2. Making His Way

 

_ “I’m sorry. This was the only way I could save your spark.” _

 

Perceptor looked up to survey the lines of newly constructed future Autobots. His optics dragged out details which he then wrote down for his report. ‘ _ Gamma-1782 is femme with superior intelligence and vast care for surrounding newsparks. Already does rough patch-up jobs on companions if cannot reach medic quickly enough. Function as a medic advised to fully take advantage of temperament and skills.’ _

 

_ ‘Gamma-1783 is minibot mech gifted with Outlier ability. Can go at supersonic speeds without tiring easily, though speech can be slightly difficult to understand due to speed rate of words. Discrete and naturally stealthy. Function as a courier or an intelligence agent? Undecided.’ _

 

He paused for a second on one strange newspark. It was a red and blue mech, reasonably attractive he supposed, with a slim but strong frame. Strange glowing glyphs and burned-in markings were scattered all over his young frame. He frowned. Perhaps a sign of abuse? The scientist would have to look into it further.

 

His frown only deepened as the mech was greeted by a yellow and green femme. He could faintly hear a muffled designation that was responded to with another designation, likely that given to the femmelet. This could potentially lead to problems in the future. It was too bad that he couldn’t hear through the thick glass separating them. Designations at this stage could lead to looking out of where they were allowed, which could lead to deviants. Deviants like the Decepticons.

 

Digits clicked furiously at the datapad despite the fact that he had removed his emotions long ago.  _ ‘Gamma-1824 is carrier mech with strange markings and signs of already-healed damage on frame. From observation, seems to have chosen own designation instead of waiting for Autoboot-Camp instructor giving one. Potential abuse and deviant. Separate from Gamma-1829.’ _

 

_ ‘Gamma-1829 is femme with Outlier ability to adopt the abilities of others for short period of time. From observation, is close to Gamma-1824 and has also chosen own designation. Healthy opposed to said mech. Potential deviant. Separate from Gamma-1824.’ _

 

With that, Perceptor sent his findings to the officer in charge of this sector. He knew his advice would be followed. After all, he was the Head of the Autobot Ministry of Science. It was only logical that the mech would follow his instructions.

 

/-/-/

 

Lines of Autobot trainees practised transform-ups in front of the drill instructor. Kup watched silently. This batch showed quite a bit of mecha he knew would never reach the Elite Guard or Prime level, but there were a few exceptions. His optics rested on the smooth red and blue paint of one such exception. Optimus as he had named the mech, though he for some strange reason preferred those close to him to call him Orion Pax, had the makings of a fine Autobot warrior.

 

A smile crept onto his dermas as he watched the diligent trainee. He still remembered the day he had come up to give him his new designation. It was a strange one, to be sure. It always was with the young mech.

 

_ “Hey, 24!” the instructor yelled. The young trainee in question stopped his spar and switched off the simulation. He then turned to face Kup. _

 

_ “Yes?” As always, his response was polite and to the point. The sword still rested loosely in his servo, forgotten for the time being. The older mech took a moment to scan the youngster’s paint for any chips or damage. He knew very well what lay underneath, and how if let out in public how it could be dangerous.  _

 

_ However, he also knew not to underestimate the other. The two had often spared in the lunar cycle when 24 could not recharge. That mech had incredible skill with a sword. It was almost as if he had used one before. More, it was as if he had trained in the art of the sword for vorns on end from a professional swordsmech. “I think I have an official designation for you now, younglin’.” _

 

_ 24 cracked a smile at that. “And what might that be, sir?” Ah, that was nice. The youngling, while optimistic on results, was rather reserved. Each true smile Kup could give the poor mechling was one he was proud of causing. He deserved it. _

 

_ “Optimus.” A blank look overcame 24’s naturally blue faceplate. “You’ll be Optimus. It fits you an’ all, with how optimistic you tend to be.” Kup gave the youngling a cheesy grin. 24  let out a snort but nodded. His smile became a bit bittersweet for some reason. _

 

_ “Optimus.” The mechling tasted the name on his glossa. For some reason, when the trainee said it, some sort of indecipherable undertone was added. He made it sound like it had some deeper meaning. Normal for him, though. _

 

_ “Yes. Thank you, sir. That designation shall be perfect.” _

 

So yes. Kup could see great things in the young mech’s future. Though that Sentinel he had started hanging out with was a bit worrying… 

 

/-/-/

 

Sentinel looped an arm over his unsuspecting friend’s shoulders with a slag-eating smirk. He blew a bit of air at one of those triangular audials.

 

Optimus jumped, datapad clattering to the ground. The young mech swirled around and locked his fellow trainee in a helmlock and pinned him to the floor. Sentinel choked, thumping a fist against the ground. Still Optimus- or Orion, or 24, or Pax, or whatever name you wanted to call him- stayed as he were. 

 

“I yield!” Finally, those slim arms that hid such a considerable strength loosened, and he was able to push himself up from the floor. The blue and red mech had the guile to look guilty, embarrassment making his blue faceplates glow iridescent cobalt. “What is it with you pinning some poor mech down whenever I try to surprise you?”, he grumbled halfheartedly. 

 

His friend-and Optimus was one of the only he could call a friend- just shrugged. “Sorry, Sen’. I can’t help it. It’s instinctive.” He hesitated for a klik, then thrust out his servo. Sentinel grumbled about being thrown to the floor but took it all the same. Optimus pulled him up easily.

 

He snorted. “Instinctive reactions like that only come after vorns of practice and danger. We’re barely two vorns old! You sure you aren’t doing that on purpose?” He did not pout. No, he did not. Yes, he crossed his arms, but he did. Not. Pout. But seriously. Where did those ‘instinctive reactions’ come from?

 

“Trust me, Sentinel, sometimes I wish I hadn’t needed to learn such things…” Sentinel looked up in surprise from his brooding. Optimus was spacing out again. His bright blue optics, a strange shade that Sentinel had never seen on any other mech and usually brushed off, were unfocused as if he was looking at something far away that only he could see. His not-pout dissolved into a worried frown.

 

“Hey.” That seemed to snap Optimus out of his trance, and he shot him a wide-opticed look. “Cool it. No need to blow a circuit or something from thinking so hard.” The smaller mech let out a surprised snort. Sentinel felt the ends of his dermas twitch upwards. Triumph of a kind he so rarely felt settled comfortably over his spark.

 

He offered his own charcoal servo to the once-brooding mech. “C’mon. Wanna go spar some more?” It didn’t matter that Optimus would likely wipe the floor with him. He might be the best when it came to blasters and bulldozing his way through opponents, but Optimus had a more fluid, tactical edge. And with blades, even Sentinel knew to bow to his superior. 

 

So yeah. He was definitely going to get a few new dents and a bruised pride from this. But the smile that lit up his friend’s faceplates- the very real smile that made him seem to glow- was well worth it.

 

Not that he wasn’t going to complain later on.

/-/-/

 

“I can’t believe it!” Firestar whooped in joy as they entered the Academy for the first time. “We got in! Can you believe it? Oh, I can’t believe it!” She twirled around, optics darting all about as she absorbed their surroundings.

 

Elita-One just smiled indulgently at her good friend. Then her little smile slipped off, and she looked over the crowds of students. They weren’t technically going to start for the next few deca-cycles, but it had been advised that accepted students come in early to get accustomed to the building’s layout.  _ Where is he? He should be here, shouldn’t he? Was I wrong? Did he get sorted into another guild? Did I choose wrong? _

 

Then, she spotted it. A pair of familiar triangular wedges atop a blue helm, with silver outlining a youthful blue face. Those smiling dermas, those gentle optics in that shade of blue only he seemed to possess, those audials that twitched and flicked with his mood. Her face cracked with a huge grin. She felt like that young newbuild all over again, searching for him amid the crowds that made up their batch. Her batchmate always seemed almost larger than life.

 

Firestar saw her face and froze mid-spin. It was only Elita’s trained reflexes that prevented her from careening into a handful of unsuspecting mecha. Of course, the femme dismissed that in favour of questioning her sudden change in mood. “Hey, ‘lita? Elita, snap out of it!”

 

Elita turned to her friend and gripped her forearm. “Firestar, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And she turned towards the crowds and barged through, Firestar dragged along behind her.

 

When she got close enough, she let go of her femme friend and launched herself at the red and blue mech she knew so well. “Orion!” She squealed. His optics widened, and a big smile of his own grew on his face. He caught her the way he always did back before they were separated, and swung her around in a circle before setting her down.

 

“Ariel!”, he cried out. His servos, big and strong yet oh-so-gentle, rested on her shoulders in a way that made her feel grounded but not trapped. He looked her over, then his smile became a little smaller, but in a satisfied, relieved way. “The vorns have been good for you, I see.”

 

Elita smiled up at him. “Same with you.” Then she cocked her hip. “So, were you given an ‘official’ designation, yet?”, she asked playfully. She rested a servo on her chassis. “I’m Elita-One. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 

Orion chuckled under his vent. “Well then, where are my manners?” He dipped down onto one knee and took her servo in his own, brushing those teasing dermas over the top of the metal. “My designation is Optimus, my good dame. A pleasure to meet such a lovely sight.”

 

They stayed like that for a few moments, then fell into laughter. Elita pulled her batchmate up and clapped him on the back. “Good to see you still have a sense of humour,” she giggled. Orion smiled. His arms braced her close to his frame, and she snaked her own around his little waist.

 

Twin coughs alerted them that they weren’t alone, and Elita turned to Firestar. She gave her a sheepish grin. When she looked back up to Orion- Optimus-, he was mirroring her with a tall blue and orange mech with a big chin and two antennae on each audial. 

 

She took a step back, then placed a servo on the orange femme’s shoulder. “Well Optimus, this is Firestar, my friend from my Autoboot teachings. Firestar, this is Optimus, my old batchmate.”

 

Firestar looked up at her old friend with large optics and a light blush coating her cheeks. “Pleased to meet you,” she stammered. 

 

Orion took her servo into his own. “The pleasure is all mine,” he replied. His smile was kind and innocent, though Elita had a feeling that Firestar wouldn’t see it that way. Then he took the servo of the large blue-orange mech. “And this is Sentinel, my friend from Autoboot Camp.” He angled his gaze towards Elita. “Sentinel, this is Elita, my old batchmate. And Firestar, her friend.”

 

Sentinel dipped his helm lightly. “Charmed.” His tone was dry. She noted how a servo came to grip Optimus’ shoulder possessively. She grinned.

 

This, she felt, was the beginning of a lovely friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an experimental thing of mine. If people say they want me to continue it, I will. But probably not as much as my other story Momento Vivere. I probably shouldn't even be doing this until I've finished that one, but I couldn't resist! 
> 
> Please give me your input if you want me to continue!


End file.
